Extremism

I can't wait until I get you naked.1

I've been thinking nothing else all day.2

I love sex. No matter the situation, even when talking seriously to my teacher about covalent bonds, I can't stop thinking about how it would feel if, right this minute, Boyfriend's hand or tongue (but mostly tongue) touched me there...I want it, always. I want him all over me, on top of me, inside me, arms under my back to pull me closer, watching his face contort, gasping breath in my ear accompanied by my own moans. Right this minute, I want a cock in my mouth.3

But, god, I want so much more than this mundane, ordinary, penis-vagina fun time. Though, thinking about it, I suppose that, for a sixteen year old, I have a pretty adventurous sex life...not only do I have one, which is more than plenty of teenagers can say, but I've initiated Boyfriend into the joys of B/D and S/M...that studded leather round his waist isn't a belt, it's a collar. In certain situations I am "bitch" and he "boy"; and in certain other situations, he is punished for not calling me "miss". Only the other day I bent him over and spanked him for some half-imagined transgression. I have a special leopard-print basque I wear when it's my turn to take control; it lives under my bed with its fellows, all equipped with their own matching hold-ups and detachable suspenders. If my bag is hit in the wrong place it starts vibrating; and that's not my phone.4

But it's not enough.5

I want a proper collar with a lead and jewelled "bitch", I want to be ordered to pole dance. I want handcuffs. I want riding crops. I want an orgy; I want dirty weekends. I want to go to fetish bars. I want to play naked with snakes. I want to watch strangers fuck in car parks; I want to be watched. I want an encasement tube. I want candle wax. I want anal play and double penetration. I want to push the boundaries as far as they can possibly go.6

So much...7

But it's expensive for an unemployed student. It's hard to hide when you live with your parents. It's hard to persuade liberal-but-not-mad Boyfriend. It's hard to get into a fetish bar when you're under eighteen...and then there's the constant fear of pregnancy and STDs which must always limit spontaneity and extremism - at least in the orgy goal.8

From the moment I leave the bed (or floor, shower, field) to the moment I crawl back in, I'm longing for sweat under my hands. But the salt-taste on his skin never provides the satisfaction I crave....it's still not enough. I need it harder, stronger, faster, stranger, riskier, more scandalous...I'm not even sure if I'd enjoy half the fantasies that obsess me: but there's only one way to find out. Sex feels like nothing I've ever felt before, and since that first time - half a year ago now - I've wanted to experiment and play, develop a sexual palette of likes, dislikes, loves, hates, neutral-postives and neutral-negatives...the games Boyfriend and I play are nice enough, but too acceptable. Too plain. Too vanilla. They're not going to scandalise anybody.9

And happy is she who causes a scandal.